Ender's First
by chromyzone
Summary: What is making love, anyways?


All he could think about was her smell.

Did they make perfume in space? Or did she bring it with her on the voyage? Are colonists even allowed possessions like that? Certainly, that couldn't fit I.F. precautions…

No, no that's not the right thing to think about right now.

The doors to his room barely managed to slide open before they fell through the entrance, tumbling into the bed – her light laughter in the air, Ender's own chuckle ringing out.

Am I even doing this right?

Ender fumbled with her clothing, the simple fabric sliding off her shoulders and down her hips. She didn't give him a chance to admire for very long, her lips pressed full onto his, forcing a response from him. _Love me,_ she seemed to beg.

Love you? Ender hesitated. He pulled away and buried his face in her neck. I love my enemies. So I can destroy them.

Is that what she wants? Is that why she's been driving me crazy lately? All those looks, those light caresses.

She wants me to defeat her?

They were embracing in his bed, in darkness, in silence.

Is that what this whole love thing is about?

She sighed into his ear and ran her hands up his shirt, fingertips gliding against muscles.

"Ender… make love to me."

Ender lost all control at her words. Pure instinct kicked in. He began to kiss her again, with much more conviction. His strong hands cradled her face, caressed her neck, trailed down her body. Her breath hitched, signaling Ender to continue.

You want me to defeat you?

Oh, well, surely I can comply.

The rest of their clothes were quickly disposed of, carelessly tossed onto the floors. For once, Ender was glad that he was given such a large room, _and with such a large bed,_ he thought.

Ender had read plenty about sex, having years on voyages without being in-stasis. He knew what to do. He was 16, he knew what his body had been wanting. He laid her down below him, and whispered into her ear.

"Are you sure?" His voice was low, husky.

"Yes."

He kissed her again, one hand massaging her breast and the other sliding precariously down her abdomen. Her body was set alight in the purest, most acute pleasure as he began exploring her body. She admired this boy, no – this man, hovering above her body. He looked into her face for signs of pleasure as a scientist studies an experiment. He was so thorough, so intense. But at the same time, he was so gentle. He could never hurt her, never harm her in any way.

As a finger slid into her, a gasp escaped her lips. He stopped at once, concerned for her. She opened her eyes, and looked into his. She breathed an airy laugh, reaching a hand up to brush her thumb over his cheekbone. She smiled reassuringly as she arched her hips up slightly to meet his touch. He smiled and added another finger. He slid them slowly, in and out. Immediately, his fingers became slick and could pull them in and out faster. She moaned lightly with the action, encouraging Ender.

He pleasured her with his fingers, pushing her farther and farther to the edge. She chanted his name in a gentle, needy whisper. The sounds of his own name mixed with her beautiful sighs gave Ender such satisfaction that he continued with more strength and speed.

She cried out his name, muffled by a hasty and passionate kiss. Now, Ender could no longer ignore his own want. He positioned himself just beyond her, kissed her once more, and slowly pushed in. They both moaned, his forehead falling against hers. For a moment, they only breathed, concentrating on this new sensation of intimacy. Slowly, the feeling of foreignness slipped away, as they became lost in their need for release.

She rocked against his body as he thrust into her with a rhythm – slow, then fast, faster, then slow again. They gently called to each other in whispers and sighs, in hands moving fleetingly across flesh.

Ender was winning the battle, he knew. He was conquering her, just as she wanted. Loving her.

As they reached their climax, Ender was overcome with emotion.

He cradled her body against his, never wanting to let her go. He knew that at that exact moment. Making love was no battle. There was no tactic, no winning, no losing.

It was connection. It was the act of understanding at its greatest, without violence, without death. Making love was peace.


End file.
